Blood Diamond
by hooked-heart
Summary: The 75th Hunger Games are approaching and after last year, the Capitol is sure to make it one that Panem will NEVER forget.   When her name is called, Calla can't even think. Her mind has gone blank...until she hears the name of this year's male tribute


**Disclaimer -** I own nothing recognisable :)

**Prologue**

The Capitol was unhappy. Katniss Everdeen, the girl on fire, had sparked a blaze with her stunt at the conclusion of the last hunger games. Her half-hearted and frankly abismal performance of a supposedly lovestruck teeneager during the victory tour did not help matters at all. Everyone could now see right through the fabricated romance of Katniss and Peeta. Even the previously oblivious and widely gullible Capitol audience had lost interest in the 'star-crossed lovers' from District 12. Now, with the 75th Hunger Games approaching, the capitol is determined to make it one that Panem will _never_ forget.

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><p><strong>Chapter 1 – <strong>_**The Reaping**_

CALLA's muscles burned. Sweat dripped down from her hairline as her breath came in short, controlled bursts. Her knuckles ached, she could almost feel the blisters start to form underneeth the rags that were wrapped around her hands. Still, she wasn't done yet, three combinations to go then she could rest. _Thud, thud, thud BANG!_ "Left, right, left, right hook." She chanted the combination in her head. _Thud, thud, thud BANG! _"Right, left, right, left hook." Ambidexerity was the key, that's what her father always said. _Thud BANG…BANG! _"Left, right hook, roundhouse."

She watched the lumpy bag swing back and forth on it's chain as she caught her breath and shook out her arms, flexing her stiff fingers. She stretched out the rest of her protesting muscles before unwrapping her hands and wiping the sweat from her forehead with a stray rag. She looked to the sky and let out a deep breath. The sun had well and truly risen since she had begun her morning routine. Any other day she would probably keep going if there was nothing else to do. Perhaps sneak off across the fence to the lake she was sure no-one else knew about and just relax, let her body cool down in the water before returning home. But today was not one of those days. She needed to head home straight away to prepare for the Reaping.

She grabbed her water bottle and the used rags, shoved them in her small leather satchel and slung it across her body before heading back along the path to her home. As she neared her house, she saw the slim figure of her mother standing in the doorway, a weary look on her face.

"Calla, where have you been?" she demanded. Calla fought the urge to roll her eyes. They did this routine at least once a week.

"Just out for a run as usual, Mum. I do it every morning." She sighed.

Her mother just shook her head and furrowed her brow, "Yes but this morning is different, I expected you home." Calla just nodded and shrugged, there was no point in arguing, not today. "Anyway I need you to find Ash, he's disappeared again. I haven't seen him since breakfast, I've looked everywhere!" She continued in exasperation. "I need you both home immediately, you need to get ready for this afternoon."

Calla nodded again. She briefly entered the house to dump her satchel and grab a stale roll of bread from the table before heading out towards one of the abandoned mines, her brother's favourite hiding place. As she made her way to the mine she passed by Victor's village and allowed herself a glance towards the few occupied houses. One belonging to Haymitch, an old alcoholic victor from years ago and two are only freshly occupied by last year's victors, Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark. Calla never understood the apparently faux romance played out between the two tributes. Though, she must admit, despite finding it confusing it definitely appeared to be an effective strategy. They BOTH survived the games, didn't they? That had never happened before. She fleetingly wondered whether they were reprimanded by the Capitol for upsetting their carefully choreographed games? She quashed the thought quickly though. Interestingly to some, on returning from the games, the suposedly lovestruck couple were indifferent, almost cold to each other. Rumors were circulating about Katniss and her "cousin" Gale, disappearing into the woods together and Peeta rarely left his new house. Then, the pair unconvincingly acted as though they were still in love on the victory tour of the districts and those in Panem who were once fascinated with the star-crossed lovers lost interest. Calla couldn't care less to be honest, it was none of her business. As she went to look away her eyes caught those of a figure as he emerged from his home, Peeta Mellark. They locked eyes momentarily before Calla turned away and continued towards the old mine.

She looked down at the sooty path that lead to the mines entrance to find no footprints. Typical, he really musn't want to be found this morning. "Though who would?" She thought to herself as she peered into the dark entrance and listened intently.

"Ash!" She called. Her voice bounced off the rocky walls and echoed down the broken elevator shaft. Nothing.

"Ash it's me, come on out!" Still nothing. Maybe he wasn't in here. She backed out and turned towards the rock piles next to the mine, letting out a short breath. Then, she spotted it. A tiny leaf lying near the biggest pile, bingo. Sure enough, there he was, huddled behind the rocks clutching the branch he'd used to sweep his tracks away from the path.

"Hey Ash, " Calla said casually as she leaned on the pile.

He looked up at her "Hey Cal," he replied sheepishly. "You always beat me at hide and seek."

She smiled, "Yeah, but only me, you keep everyone else stumped." He grinned up at her. She winked and offered her hand to him, "Come on bud, mumma needs us home."

His grin faded and he sighed, "Do I have to?"

Calla's eyes softened, today was Ash's first reaping. "Unfortunately," she replied, grabbing his hand and hauling him up. "Mum's going to throw a fit, you're covered in soot and she needs to scrub you squeaky clean!"

Ash scrunched up his face in disgust before grinning again, "So are you Cally-Wally, you need to go and get all pretty. We better hurry, that could take hours!"

Calla rolled her eyes playfully and shoved him towards the path, "Come on you little rat."

They quickly made their way back home, past Victor's village and through the town square where Capitol officials had already begun to set up the flags, banners and massive screen for this afternoon. Again, their mother was waiting at the door way, tutting disapprovingly at their condition before hurrying them inside to wash-up.

After a thorough scrub, Calla threw on the same reaping dress she'd been wearing since the age of twelve. It used to hang baggily on her small frame and brush the tops of her ankles but it now fit snugly across her chest and hung to just above her knees. She towelled her wet hair and sat in front of the cracked mirror on her mother's vanity, waiting for her to finish scrubbing grubby little Ash and come to fix her hair. Calla was always hopeless at braiding, she only ever had her hair scraped back in a messy pony tail or simply hanging loose if she felt like it. She felt her mother's fingers gently begin to comb through her hair and begin to braid back the front and sides. They sat in silence. There's not much to say this close to the reaping.

"Do you want it all up Calla?" her mother asked in a quiet voice.

Calla went to shake her head, but rather than ruin what her mother had done she instead replied "No, just the sides will do. Thanks mum."

Her mother carefully pinned the braids and let her hands fall to her daughter's shoulders. She leant down and kissed Calla's cheek, squeezing her shoulders as a wordless gesture of comfort before turning and leaving the room to make sure that Ash hadn't dirtied his reaping shirt. Calla stood and slipped her father's wedding ring onto her thumb. She wore it at every reaping for good luck. Well…it had worked so far. She joined Ash and her mother in the small kitchen for a quick family hug before they headed to the town square. Any of Ash's playfulness from this morning had vanished now. Calla took his hand and hung back as her mother caught up with one of the other women and made small talk, occasionally looking back over her shoulder towards her children. The other woman offering words of support as her youngest son had just turned nineteen, eliminating his chance of being chosen as tribute.

Calla looked down towards her brother and furrowed her brow. She didn't know what to say. She wasn't going to promise him he wouldn't be picked, that's not something she can control. He has a reduced chance of being drawn as his name is in once, and once only having never signed up for tesserae (Calla made sure of that). However the same was said of Primrose Everdeen last year. Only twelve years old, no tesserae, yet she was still drawn. However, her sister was able to volunteer to take her place. Something Calla was unable to do for her brother, no matter how much she wished she could. So she just squeezed his hand tightly and begun their special game.

"Hey Ash," She began, "I'm thinking of something."

He glanced up at her, recognition in his eyes, "What are you thinking of Cal?"

"I'm thinking of a…train." She replied.

He thought for a second, "Well, I'm thinking of a plane."

She bit her lip, "I see, but I'm thinking of rain."

"I'm thinking of…a crane!" he shot back.

Calla smiled to herself; at least it seemed to be getting him to think about something else. "Good one! I'm thinking of…" She trailed off. They had arrived.

"Ha! I win Cal," Ash exclaimed triumphantly, but his smirk faded as he realised where they were.

"Come on buddy, let's go register so they can get this thing over and done with." Calla said quietly, tugging on his hand and leading him over to line up.

After registration, Calla kept a tight hold on Ash's hand and stood in a crowd of mildly familiar people. A stony-faced Gale Hawthorne was there with his family along with some other familiar faces from school. She looked up to the stage and saw Mayor Undersee, Katniss, Peeta and Haymitch all seated together, surrounded by Capitol officials as Effie Trinket, District 12's obnoxiously colourful escort approached the microphone.

"Happy Hunger Games District twelve! May the odds _ever_ be in your favour!" She exclaims in her usual bright and bubbly fashion, "They most certainly were last year!"

No-one smiles. Unperturbed by this she continues on to the drawing.

As always she crosses over to the girls glass ball "Ladies first!" She says happily as she reaches a perfectly manicured hand deep in to the bowl to dig around and fish out a slip of paper.

As always, Calla's heart speeds up and jumps into her throat. She grips Ash's hand tightly, feeling the cold metal of her father's wedding ring dig into her thumb. She tries to control her breathing as Effie crosses over to the podium to unfold the paper and announce the female tribute in a clear voice.

"Calla Thornwood!"

Her heart drops. It takes her a few seconds to realise, 'That was my name. _My name_. It's me.' Calla can't get her body to move. She's only vaguely aware of Effie trying to coax her to the stage while Ash has taken a vice like grip on her arm. She slowly pulls herself together and blinks a few times. She turns to Ash and kneels down to pull her arm from his. She tells him it'll be okay but it's not really her voice. She feels someone from the crowd pull him away and slowly walks up to the platform on auto-pilot. She won't cry or hyperventilate, or break-down…right now. For the second time today Calla lock eyes with Peeta Mellark as she makes her way up onto the stage. He has a pained expression on his face but breaks eye contact and looks down at his shoes.

Effie smiles as she reach the podium, "Congratulations my dear! Let's have a round of applause for our first tribute!" No-one claps.

Again, unfased by the lack of crowd response Effie continues with the drawing, "And now, for our male tribute!"

Calla can't even think right now, her mind is blank. Blank until she hears the name of this year's male tribute.

"Ash Thornwood!"

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> So there you have it. Just an idea I had and decided to run with. Does not follow the plot of Catching Fire (obviously) but if I end up taking it further and doing a sequel I would most likely tie back in with Mockingjay :) Let me know what you think!


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